Brooke Place
by Lumielt
Summary: A woman that believes she's a fairy, and another who refuses to talk. A man that sees wolves (and follows them), and a patient kept under lock and key that tries to tear out hearts (including her own). Welcome to Brooke Place, a mental institution owned by one Regina Mills, with nurse Emma Swan new on the job.


WARNING  
First off, obviously, this is a no-curse-asylum-au. I'll do my best to learn what I can about mental issues and not treat anything too lightly, but, remember that this is just a fanfiction and there is probably going to be inaccuracies. I apologize.

Emma Swan really, really hated her new uniform. If it could even be called that. Teddy bears? Really? If that weren't bad enough, they each held giant, shiny heart-shaped balloon in one pink paw, fabric-printed faces in permanent smiles.

Why did nurses have to wear these over-sized, "friendly" printed things anyway? What happened to the old white dresses and little hats? Sure, they were silly too, but at least Emma wouldn't have felt like a walking Build-a-Bear Workshop.

She brought it up to the head Doctor-a raven-haired woman in a classy black suit; weren't doctors meant to wear those green smocks?-the woman simply rolled her eyes with a smirk.

"It makes the patients feel more at ease, Miss Swan. You'll get used to it."

Yeah, said Miss Designer-Suit. Emma briefly wondered what the head would look like in a nurse's outfit like her own, but couldn't quite seem to conjur the image up.

"Aren't you supposed to be starting your shift now?" The head asked a little too loudly, and Emma realized she'd been spacing off.

"Yeah. Sorry, Miss...Madam Mills." Madam Regina Mills was what it said on the head's desk, but seriously? Who called themselves Madam?

"I believe you were given your work schedule by Mr. Hopper this morning," Regina continued, sorting through a small stack of papers. "Follow that, and you'll be fine."

Though the words themselves were almost kind, the tone was incredibly dismissive. Emma took the cue, leaving the small main office.

Outside was chilly, the ground still damp from last night's rain. The place looked something like a castle, all grey stone and red lava-stone gravel, bright patches of flowers planted around a few slender trees. There was a small office building, where visitors-and new nurses-checked in, and beyond that, a huge, three-story building. Supposedly somewhere there were apartments for permanent staff, but the view was cut off by a cluster of willow trees near the babbling brooke the asylum was named for.

Brooke Place Mental Institution.

Emma shivered, partly from the cool air and partly from where her life had ended up. Growing up, she'd always assumed she'd be a homemaker by now. A mom, giving her children what she'd never had. Not an ex-con playing nurse at a nuthouse.

She wasn't even technically a nurse-she was a 'caregiver'. Less training, less pay. All she had to do was babysit a bunch of crazies all day.

Emma reached the main building, pushing open the glass double-doors. The doors-and the alarms and cameras surrounding them-were at odds with the rest of the old building, but assumably it was for her own safety.

The lobby was small and bland, much like a dentist's or doctor's or any other cliche corporate lobby. Patterned chairs. A watercolor of a boat. Some pictures of smiling pictures with things like 'care' and 'happiness' overlayed on them. A man with round eyes behind rounder glasses was scratching something onto a clipboard. As he looked up at Emma, his face lit up in a smile.

"Miss Swan! I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost." He shook her hand, still grinning happily. "You're on socialization duty right now-the first-floor patients are currently there with Mr. Nolan. Any questions before you jump in?"

"Nope, I got it." As jobs went, hers sounded fairly simple. Watch patients while they socialized in the main room for a couple hours a day. Watch patients while they ate meals in the cafeteria for a couple hours a day. Collect money. Repeat.

The patients she was assigned to weren't even dangerous, Emma recalled as she exited the lobby and entered a short, cream-colored hall. Each story of the hospital was ranked a la dangerous-ness, and floor one-her job-was all harmless. Just poor people that needed help.

The hall opened into a room with a staircase, a tiny garden full of exotic grasses, and several doors and elevators. The main room-the socializing room-was supposed to be...ah, room 101. Emma pushed the flat, metal plate in place of a knob and entered.

It was...pretty much what she had expected. People wearing pajama pants and hospital smocks, watching the large TV or sitting at round tables. A red-haired woman seemed deep in conversation with a petite blond; a scruffy-looking man with a stack of construction paper was drawing slow, careful lines with a forest-green crayon; and a handsome, if a bit plain, man was walking towards Emma.

"David Nolan," he introduced himself, shaking her hand. "I'm a nurse here as well. Jeffrey Hatts just took his lunch break, so you and I will be working together for now."

"Emma, Emma Swan." The blonde woman shook his hand, then nodded. "Alright. Sounds good."

"If you need any help, just give me a holler. Otherwise, just watch them"-David gestured to the few on the overstuffed sofa, watching television-"while I make sure Tinn and Swisher aren't up to anything." He said it in a casual, friendly way, like a dad at a playground. Make sure Timmy and Annie don't get into trouble. Make sure Tinn and Swisher aren't up to anything.

Emma nodded again, and he made his way over to two women at the table; the redhead and the blonde she'd noticed earlier. She herself walked to the sofa, trying to act nurse-y. Kind, but firm. Like it said in her job booklet.

The TV was easily the newest thing in the room; a wide flatscreen, probably a donation, looking at odds with the slightly stained carpeting and not-exactly-new couch. An old Disney film was playing with the sound turned low, Cinderella singing as she cleaned the floor.

Emma sat carefully on the sofa's arm, watching the movie for a few forced-casual seconds before looking at her fellow film-goers. Two women, one with bright blue eyes and curly chestnut hair; the other with long, straight hair and a pale purple shirt. Both seemed utterly absorbed in the cartoon, not so much as glancing at Emma. Assumably David had sent her here because she was new, not because either of the women truly needed watching. A long, silent time passed; Cinderella found her prince, lost her slipper, and got married.

"Good movie, huh?" Emma finally said as the credits rolled. The long-haired woman glanced at her, but neither replied.

"I thought so, too."


End file.
